Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Anti-Nuke Poem

i hear heaven in my washing machine ears in my piccolo
and generations of voice in my ears i'm
tired and unaffected on winter roads of greek television commercials
and rain on the roof is no encouragement to my taxidermist's duck
why won't you cease to lie
when you tell me my phone bill is due
and i must pay under threat of eviction at armageddon
armageddon atomic bombs without fireplace
armageddon starvation without french fries
armageddon the disease of farting window panes
armageddon the car with no wheels on a collapsed freeway
armageddon running the road to ruin up your nose the last time
armageddon turn on the tv there's no cartoons

the face in the mirror shaving has a blade held close to it
this is not a joke this is real even if the image
could never cut itself
you move the mirror and image after image holds a blade
after awhile it seems abstract
after awhile you ignore the abstraction
at armageddon you can't cut yourself once

from Thebes (1991)

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Can Dial Monday Through Friday

fraternity boys trembled at the
services being preened
left their pajamas behind
aware of how many hot
diplomatic sources as saying
the most favored souvenir of a
tragic collision
would ruin the electronic surveillance stations

pointing to a pair of automobile license plates
he'll have made by spring

temptress of a beer
of course i want to get
products and people since then

from Thebes (1991)

In the Village Below the Castle

when dracula is first broadcast in color
nobody can deal with the brightness
that the sky isn't green anymore
that the castle's not red
that all roses aren't grey

and that blood really flows in channels of hunger
that faces white as teeth are rare
that the healthy skin of the gorged
elicits envy

the entire village
clumps in front of the broad clear window
of the appliance store

at first each brilliant image makes them jump
then it's like a movie of the dead
the lifeless light outside
the grey brick and the snow
the hushed eyes
the faces preserved within scarves

Friday, April 2, 2010

The Next Night

the next night he held the cigarette to his mouth
til it was all ash but the last quarter inch
we told him be careful
if your last hit's too hard you'll burn yourself

he slowly
put the thing out
in the ashtray

put the bend of a finger
to his lips
lit the nail end

smoked it down
to the last quarter inch
didn't bother
about the ashes

from Bar Room Ballads (1992)

Thursday, April 1, 2010







from Thebes (1991)